we’re all football hooligans now you’ve picked your side
you’re waiting to pass your colours down the generations
as you’re chanting syllables of phlegm out onto the pitch
thinking your vee signs from the height of your terraces
we’ve all got stanley knives to slice our points out of faces
pool balls in our socks like Ray Winston in scum united thus
from barbed wire council estates to the gardens of eton
all of us simultaneous individuals and examples of our species
do you remember when it was only the punks and the pinks
who were filled with bile but it’s only a fascist who thinks
about the good old days these days a metropolitan poet
told me to fuck off the other day not really i just said that
to get noticed and dear lord all i want is to get noticed
we haven’t got time to think it though history will sniff
they had too much panicking to do too many days and no
i know pinks doesn’t really work but it rhymes and no
i know i’m repeating words too much but i haven’t got time
and why o why am i using a lower case i christ without
a capital this means nothing to me as Midge Ure said
and after that there’s really nothing left to say except
it’s likely some of us at least will live to fight another day
politics has just appeared and politics has never been away
i feel like i should read parlement of foules i don’t know
what it’s about but it sounds about right could check it out
on wikipedia but probably won’t just look at those cunts
doing their best from within their wormy little holes
if they had plastic seats to rip out they’d be flinging them
across the commons more than ever we are the blind
following the blind this country is a parlement of mole
rats a talking shop for wealthy troglodytic vermin whose
eyes have been sealed no not by 40 years in the european
union in fact but the 360 since the tenures abolition act
or so i understand from so-i-understand.com placards
demonstrate we’re such an eccentric race what fun
what fun to leap on a train to london daddies-aunties-
mates-and-sweethearts-against-the-nazis revolutionaries
and soixante-huitards hardly more than a pitch invasion
to the multimillionaire and the builder’s apprentice and
the out-of-work foreman who suddenly have something
in common before them a self-righteous army
of the relatively wealthy confused into certainty hungry
for blame easily offended i think we all thought
that history had ended but that was a lie the size of a bus
this jumble of ill-considered words is a metaphor for brexit
i’m flagging this up because subtlety’s dead and this
and this and if there is anything left to say you can be sure
it’s already been said look there’s no good rhyme
for ‘brexit’ but ‘sex it’ that’s what a chick sexer does
to separate the pullets life of enforced reproduction
from the cockerels moments of life then maceration
this i feel provides some insight into our chicken shit
nation but what that insight is i cannot say have you ever
thought what this must look like from the outside not
the outside we like to think about because it’s not
really outside at all but from the real outside the one
where people work hard and starve to death every day
and everyday some of them will know that up there
somewhere those spoilt ones are squabbling because
they fear some of their luxuries might get taken away
okay this is doggerel for a doggerel time
but even the worst poem you’ve ever written
can be revised i mean look at that terrible chicken
analogy just now any citizen in their right mind
would go back and cast their eyes over what’s done
take pen to paper in a second referendum but still
what should have been a marathon became a sprint
between two individuals you lost you won
we didn’t know what we were voting for is the point
is not the point we were lied to by those bastards
is the point is not the point yes we’re all individuals
is the point is not the point world war two
is the point is not the point we are all degrees of racist
is the point is not the point changing demographics
is the point is not the point millennials is the point
is not the point capital progress technology greed love
is not the point and because two things can be true
is the point the whole point and nothing but the point
one statement can be both impolite and kindly meant
and vice versa polemic quickly descends into mindless rant
but o my god it feels good to be angry and good to have
someone to be angry with and good to transfer all my
insecurities and weaknesses onto a single group my enemy
my guilt my paranoia my self-hate my inner-ugliness
my lack of understanding my hubris my humiliation
Wood Bee Poet 